


Conflict Resolution

by Red Charade (traciller)



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 05:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10210559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traciller/pseuds/Red%20Charade
Summary: Mick can't stop staring at those bruises all over Len's face, the ones he put there when Len walked into the cell and made a deal; his life for Mick's freedom.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wfricke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wfricke/gifts).



> Takes place immediately after The Magnificent Eight. It's been a while, so I'm sorry if I get some things wrong with the immediate timeline of the episode.

Mick had been staring at Len all day. All through the morning, all through the mission in the Old West, all through...everything. Of course, he’d been doing that anyway ever since he’d come back, ever since he’d shaken Chronos off, or at least ever since he’d come back to himself enough to realize who had been before Chronos, realized who the people who actually deserved his animosity and hatred were. Ever since the other night, especially, when he and Len had been completely alone in that cell and used their fists on each other.

It was strange. Mick had realized while they were fighting that Len was putting on a good show but not really trying. He hadn’t known what to think about that, but when Len went down and didn’t get back up, actually sounded plaintive as though serious about it when he told Mick that killing him was the deal they’d agreed on to secure Mick’s freedom. When those things happened and Mick admitted out loud the thing that he had been quietly contemplating while sitting alone in that cell for so long. That he just fucking didn’t know what he wanted. That he was confused. Ever since then he couldn’t get the sight of Len lying beaten and bruised and bleeding on the ground in front of him, because of him, out of his head.

And it wasn’t just because Len came out this morning looking like he belonged in a tuberculosis ward in the 1950’s or something with the way the bruises had patterned around his eyes, making his skin look even paler than it was, the other obvious signs of the beat down he’d taken yesterday. No, it wasn’t just that because Mick had had nightmares about it the night before. Because, as much as he and Len had their differences in the past, as much as he and Len had argued and even pointed guns at each other, it had never been truly serious. Sure, Len had knocked him out once and left him to die -- apparently accidentally but still -- once and abandoned him in favor of gallivanting around the timeline being a hero and choosing veritable strangers over Mick...well, they didn’t usually do that to each other. They didn’t beat each other. Mick had certainly never beaten Len like that before. Mick had always saved him from things like that, when he could. Not caused the bruises, but prevented them or got revenge for them.

As angry as he and Len had been with each other at times in the past, they’d never really raised a hand to each other like that. Like they had last night. And even as Chronos Mick didn’t want to hurt Len physically, didn’t want to raise his fists to him. He’d wanted him to hurt, yes, he’d wanted to punish him, yes, but he hadn’t wanted to lay hands on him.

Until last night, and then he couldn’t get the image out of his head and he’d had so many dreams about it. Dreams that started out good and ended in Mick beating Len bloody, sometimes beating him to death. One minute Len was smiling and laughing, in a way that he only used to do around Mick when they were alone and not talking about job stuff. The next, Len was on the floor with a bloody nose and a shocked, terrified look. The next Mick was on top of him, fists flying. Then he was awake, sitting up in bed and breathing so hard he wasn’t sure if the nausea was because of the dream or because of the heavy hyperventilating.

And just when he’d be able to fall back to sleep, there another dream would come again. The longer they went on, the more resigned Len looked at the beatings. Like he deserved it, like he expected it, like it was okay. Like maybe he even wanted it.

It got to the point that Mick didn’t trust himself to go back to sleep anymore and he stayed up until it was time to get ready for the day and then head out into the common areas, see if he could try to make nice with the rest of the crew on some level. Test the waters, see if they could ever really accept him into the fold again. Since apparently, as much as he was still mad and resentful toward Len he had clearly decided to stick around if Len was going to. And, clearly, Len was going to.

Being petty toward Len didn’t really make him feel any better, made him feel like instead of trying to get Len to realize the need for a verbal, sincere, and without the mincing of words apology...he was really just punishing himself because Len wasn’t going to get it. And he wasn’t going to be getting an apology out of Len. In some way, Len probably felt like last night, like letting Mick beat on him, was the same as an apology. It wasn’t, and all it had done was given Mick nightmares.

Then again, he couldn’t blame that all on Len. Nobody twisted his arm to make him take Len up on that offer, after all. Mick had been around him long enough to identify one of Len’s cons before the other man even opened his mouth. And baiting someone into beating on you in lieu of an apology wasn’t certainly a con.

Not that Mick didn’t think he had his own things to apologize for, and not that Mick expected or even wanted an apology out of the crew of strangers on the Waverider. Just Len. Just the person who he knew best on this ship, the person he’d come here for, the person he had always followed everywhere he was asked to follow, been loyal to ever since they first met.

He was unlikely to get that apology and he knew it. Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, didn’t sting. But, yet, somehow...seeing those bruises all over Len’s face stung more. Those bruises that he’d put there with his own fists, the way Lewis used to put bruises on Len whenever he did the slightest thing wrong, pissed the old man off, or hell didn’t even do anything wrong but was simply caught breathing and existing within arm’s length.

Mick had always wanted to protect Len from the murderous bullies like the kids in juvie when they first met, like Len’s reptile of a father. And now...now Mick felt like he’d /turned into/ Lewis Snart.

All those awful bruises kept catching Mick’s eye, even when he wanted to look away. He did his best to at least not make it obvious he was looking at Len so much, but he had no way of knowing if he was succeeding. So far, nobody had called him out on it. Len was the most observant person on the crew and he hadn’t said anything to Mick about it, although he didn’t really expect Len to. He had the air of being on best behavior around Mick. Len was good about giving alone time when it was wanted, and usually when Mick was pissed that is what he wanted. For a while, until he calmed down. That’s not what he wanted, or needed, this time.

But, those bruises...why hadn’t he gone to the med bay and had Gideon remove them? If that damn machine can grow Len’s hand back, surely it can get rid of bruises. And whatever else that might be hurting Len. Had he cracked some of Len’s ribs, bruised them? He seemed to be favoring his side a little. Most certainly the bruises on Len’s face weren’t the only ones still present. That fool hadn’t gotten rid of a single wound, had he? And that incompetent asshole of a ship’s captain they had didn’t seem to realize that Len shouldn’t be leaving the ship where he could get into some kind of trouble while like that. And the idea that Len wouldn’t get into any kind of trouble, that any member of the crew was capable of not getting into some kind of trouble, was ridiculous. Had the man met his own crew?

So, of course when things went to shit Mick was worried about Len more than anything. At least...until they were both worried about Jax more than anything because while there was probably no good time period to get kidnapped and held hostage in, this certainly was a terrible time for a black person to get kidnapped and held captive.

The situation, and the way it kept getting worse in other ways, was enough to distract him from Len’s bruises a bit for a while. But, by the time everything was said and done and they’d dealt with that situation and when the threat of the assholes the Time Masters sent after them had been taken care of and they could finally get back on the ship, there were no more distractions left.

And since Mick was pretty sure even he had to admit he was blatantly glancing at Len every few minutes, he eventually went to his own room for a while. He couldn’t stare at Len in there, after all, because for some reason they’d both been given their own separate rooms. You’d think if Rip knew so much about them, enough to realize they were a packaged deal, then he’d realize why they were a packaged deal and wouldn’t have bothered with two rooms. It wasn’t as though either of them had ever spent much time sleeping separately until now.

But even staying in his room didn’t work too well because he was even more distracted by Len when he wasn’t around. So, finally, he made a decision. Left his room and headed over to where he knew Len’s assigned room was. The one Len hadn’t even used until their jaunt to 2046 and even then only for a night or two.

Mick was a little surprised to see that Len had his door wide open, but maybe he shouldn’t be. Len clearly trusted the people on the crew quite a bit at this point. He chose them, after all. He knew where he stood now, though, so maybe he should just let it go. He wouldn’t get the apology and he had been confused about where he stood with Len in comparison to these other people, and that hurt but he didn’t want to keep fighting so much and he didn’t want to lose Len entirely. And he couldn’t stand to see those bruises on his skin like that. The ones Mick had put there. He couldn’t stand that anymore.

“Mick…” Len said as he looked up, having noticed Mick before he’d had a chance to announce himself in any way. Not that that was surprising since Mick hadn’t been quiet when walking this way and by now Len knew his step.

“Yep. You got some time?” Mick asked, figuring there was no point beating around the bush but he didn’t want to talk about this standing out in the open where anyone could eavesdrop.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course! Come in, I’ll just...uh…” Len was flustered in a way he rarely got, and Mick was a little surprised by it. But no sooner had Mick stepped fully into the room and the door was closed did it suddenly get very quiet. To the point of immediately being awkward.

“You still have the bruises.” Mick said, aware that he was stating the obvious and not caring.

“Yeah.” Len said, without offering any explanation. He wasn’t going to and getting one would be like pulling teeth. But did Mick really need Len to spell it out for him? He knew why those bruises were still there. He’d had enough damn time to think it over, hadn’t he?

“You could’a got rid of ‘em. Gideon could’a took care of all that in the med bay.”

“Yeah.”

Mick was quiet for a while and so was Len. Alright. No more attempts at tooth extraction, then. Mick wasn’t a damn dentist and besides, even a dentist needed an open mouth to do their work and that wasn’t going to be happening. Len always clammed up about things like this, things that hurt and left marks. Especially if they were from someone who was supposed to love him.

“I’m sorry.” Mick said, even though it made Len blush in all the ways except with a flush.

“Don’t be. It’s not a big deal. I just...Just, don’t be.” Len said with a shrug, looking anywhere but at Mick.

Mick was quiet for a few moments and when Len didn’t interrupt the silence, Mick stepped closer and put a hand on Len’s shoulder. When it wasn’t shrugged off and there was no flinch, Mick slid that hand down slowly, gently along Len’s arm until the other man looked up at him.

Most people assumed “partner” meant business partner, partner in crime. And it did. But that wasn’t all that it meant.

“Well, I am. I don’t gotta talk about it anymore, though. Lemme show you instead, okay?” Mick asked, ready to back off if Len said he wasn’t ready, didn’t want to.

Instead Len just looked surprised and this time he did meet Mick’s eyes. “Are you….are you serious?” He looked at once hopeful and as if he was silently berating himself for hoping.

“Completely. Unless you don’t want to. I won’t get mad if you tell me you aren’t ready, Lenny.” Mick said, using a name for Len that he only used when they were alone and not likely to be walked in on.

“Then...then yeah. Yes. Absolutely.” Len said, reaching out for Mick and pulling him close by the shirt until their lips connected with a kiss that seared with all their shared pain and regret and lost time.

A kiss that gentled instead of becoming more heated the longer it went on, slowed and yet somehow deepened, with their hopes and their sorrow and their silent promises and the lifetime that stretched out between them.

They only parted when they needed air and chose that moment as an opportunity to get rid of clothes, unnecessary barriers between them, just to come together again with a gentle embrace, soft caresses.

Once they were both on the bed, naked and Len in Mick’s lap, Mick’s hands gently finding and giving soft attention to the areas made tender by his fists the other night, Mick’s lips found their way to the bruises on Len’s face, gently kissing each one, lingering there before moving on to the next bruise, nose gently nuzzling at nearby areas not marred with black or blue.

When he felt wetness beneath his lips he kissed it away, brought his hands up to gently brush away any new wetness while his lips found Len’s again softly. “Shhh...it’s alright. You still okay?”

Len nodded. “Yeah. Don’t stop, Mick.” Came the whispered reply against his lips with their shared breath.

Mick answered with another kiss, shifting their positions until he could safely, easily, gently lay Len down on the bed while Mick hovered over him. Len opened his legs and Mick settled there easily, lying against Len and careful of his weight.

A little gasp and quiet sound left Len’s lips when he felt their skin touch like that, the familiar and much-missed feeling of Mick’s weight against him. Mick loved that he could still get Len to do that, even now after everything.

Len brought his knees up further, squirming just a little bit while Mick went on a quest to kiss each and every bruise and mark he’d left on Len, soft and gentle and lingering each one. No licking, no nipping, no pressing. Just soft little butterfly kisses ghosting against each stain and blemish, as he made his way slowly, ever so slowly, down along Len’s body.

By the time Mick reached Len’s abdomen, soft little kisses around the unbruised area of his navel, Len was already hard and leaking and Mick didn’t make him wait. He took the other man into his mouth, slow and careful, down, down, down until he had him all the way to the root and sucking determined, deliberate, but almost lazy. Enough to make Len’s toes curl against the sheets, his legs fall open that much wider, and a loud, deep moan escaped him, at once luxuriating in the sensations and yet desperate for more.

It was rare that Len was loud in bed, especially when they didn’t know if others could hear. But tonight there was no concern for anything or anyone but each other.

When Len’s moans turned into praiseful mantras of Mick’s name, breath coming fast and wordless little high-pitched keens escaped him Mick finally let up, slid his mouth off of Len’s cock. Heard Len give a frustrated little sob, felt Len’s hands grip and dig blunt nails into Mick’s shoulders. Even where scar tissue was involved, Mick could still feel pressure there even if nothing else.

“Mick, please!” Len whined, finally having caught his breath a little, starting to calm down and even more aware of the sexual frustration of being so close and yet denied without warning.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m not done yet. How long’s it been for you…?” Mick asked, fingers lightly tracing along Len’s balls and down further to get his point across.

Len’s body shivered, cock jerking a bit on its own with anticipation and need. “Not as long as it has for you…”

Mick supposed he could’ve done that math himself, but it was difficult given...everything with Chronos. Still, Len gave him the answer he needed.

“Got any lube?” Mick asked, kissing softly along Len’s thigh now just because it was so hard to keep from touching him, from wanting to make him feel good.

Len reached under a pillow and offered him a mostly full bottle. Apparently, though Len had been jerking off he hadn’t been doing it a lot if the bottle was still as full as it was.

Mick took the bottle and got his fingers wet with it before setting it aside for a moment, going back to giving his attention, slow and gentle, to Len’s bruises with his lips all over again, working his way up this time rather than down, as his fingers took their time working Len open, getting Len panting and whimpering again by the time their lips found each other again, hips pressing down and working Mick’s fingers to get even a little more satisfaction, hands all over Mick’s back and sides already.

“Ready, sweetheart?” Mick asked, quietly against Len’s lips as he broke the kiss and slid his fingers out of Len.

“Yes, yes, come on, Mick, please. Want you inside me. I’ve missed you so much.” Len whispered, spreading pleading little kisses down along Mick’s stubbled jaw.

Usually, Len didn’t beg like this, didn’t get this obviously needy, but there were a lot of rare moments tonight. Tonight was one of those nights, and even more than that still.

“You want me to use a condom?” Mick asked, not even sure if there were any in here. But he’d go get some if that was needed. He hadn’t looked but he was pretty sure there were still some in his room left over from before. And even if there weren’t, he’d have no problem walking down to the med naked and hard as a rock if he had to.

“No. Just want you.” Len answered, whispering it into Mick’s ear and then taking Mick’s earlobe into his mouth to suck on it. Len always had liked Mick’s ears for some reason.

“You sure?” Mick asked, just to be positive. He didn’t want Len to think he had to let Mick fuck him raw if he didn’t want to. The only response he got was a high keening whine of impatience and more nails digging into his back so he took up the bottle of lube again and coated his cock well before putting it aside and encouraging Len to reposition his legs. One around Mick, the other up over Mick’s shoulder as he lined himself up, one hand guiding his cock as he slowly pressed in.

Len’s little desperate whimpers were replaced with a loud groan, nails raking up along Mick’s back and drawing a growl of him as he watched Len’s reaction to being filled by Mick’s cock again after so long apart. Just beautiful.

“Look at you...so beautiful, Lenny.” Mick said, voice quiet and rough with gravel as he bottomed out, the familiar feeling of being inside of Len like this making his cock twitch with anticipation. For now, though, he was still for a moment, letting them both get used to it and calm down a little so it could last a bit longer.

The praise made Len blush and whimper, hands going up to Mick’s head, pulling him close for another kiss, deep and slow and needy until they both couldn’t stand being still anymore and Mick started to move his hips, slow and shallow, working his way up to long, deliberate thrusts in a slow rhythm that felt like a slow climb up a satisfyingly steep mountain.

Their kisses became softer and somehow sweeter, even as they didn’t compromise on depth and passion, parting more often before rejoining again as their breathing came heavier and harsher. Mick’s hands gentle but firm on Len’s hips even as the leg over his shoulder slipped down a bit and caused a louder, surprised moan from Len as the angle changed. All those little sounds music to Mick’s ears.

“Right there, Mick, there, right there, please. Come on, Mickey, that’s it, right where I need it, keep doing me just like that…” Len begged, nearly whimpered, as he wrapped his arms around Mick’s shoulders tight. Both of them were sweating and it just added a bit of extra slide to their bodies that was just goddamn fucking perfect. And really, how could Mick refuse such a sweet request?

“The things you say sometimes, sweetheart…” Mick growled, because damn if it wasn’t hot when Len talked like that.

Len kissed him again even as Mick complied with Len’s request, swallowing each other’s moans and yet still somehow they seemed to echo in the room anyway with everything so quiet and still all around them, except for each other and the soft bed beneath their bodies.

Mick reached between them with one hand to take hold of Len’s cock, stroke him with the same steady rhythm he was still managing with his hips despite how desperate they both were for release at this point. They weren’t denied it much longer, though. He was dimly aware of how not only Len’s sounds but his own had become not just louder but more desperate until finally he could feel Len’s release over his hand, their kiss broken as he called out Mick’s name on a loud sob of pleasure just second before Mick followed him over the edge, ropes of come coating Len’s inner walls and coaxing another little desperate sound out of his partner beneath him.

Only when Mick had slowed to a stop and they’d both caught their breath a little did Mick kiss Len again, slow and deep and lingering until their lungs burned with the need for oxygen.

“I love you, Len…” Mick said, quiet and soft, their faces still close, lips just inches apart from one another’s.

“I love you, too, Mick...always...I promise.” Len whispered back, cheeks wet with more than just sweat again as Mick gently cupped his cheeks and kissed him again, thumbs gently brushing through the new wetness, dimly aware that this time his own cheeks were a bit wet too.

Len’s hands came up to cup Mick’s face, too, while they lay there a little longer still connected, still pressed close, in the still silence of the room as the air slowly dried their skin.

**Author's Note:**

> No offense to reptiles was intended with that comparison.
> 
> Please let me know if you think I missed a tag and you want me to add it in.
> 
> Yes, I know. I'm sorry about the title, I do suck at them. Also, I'm aware it's not entirely accurate. There are still things they need to work through and resolve, but this is a good start yeah? I hope so!


End file.
